"I'm still unclear why we needed to wait until morning to show up at Loving's." Vera's voice was hoarse with three martinis and a shot of whisky. The unaccommodating bumps in the road made her misery that much more acute.
"I'll explain it all in a bit." Tannehill, aware that his plan could easily fall apart if he'd consumed too many martinis over the course of the night, prudently stopped at one. Otto, who was driving, and Emily, seated next to him in the passenger's seat, hadn't and seemed to feel the bumps as viscerally as Vera.
"I also don't understand why Spinoza left this morning."
"I'll explain..."
"...it all in a bit. Yeah, I've memorized that line already," Vera hiccupped.
Before leaving Emily's apartment, Tannehill had phoned ahead to the precinct, telling Lieutenant Murphy to bring a squad to the bakery to inventory and secure the stolen goods and arrest Snell's and Bellucci's murderers.
At 9 AM, the disheveled and groggy group arrived improbably, but exactly, on time, coming to rest in one of the many shallow potholes filled with the previous day's rainwater that dotted the building's crushed gravel driveway.
20 yards ahead, just in front of the entrance was a single, dark, unmarked government vehicle. Lieutenant Murphy's head peering over the roof from behind the car at the approaching party in keen interest.
Tannehill watched carefully as Emily, Otto, and Vera exited in succession from their own vehicle and then followed slowly. He'd drawn his revolver - which had been holstered for most of the trip over - before closing the door. Upon seeing the lieutenant, he prominently indicated that he was securing his own weapon in his shoulder holster and posed no threat.
"Mornin' Murph."
"Mornin' CH."
Tannehill glanced around in dramatic fashion at the lack of a police presence. "Your back up's a little light. Been paying too much overtime to the crew lately?"
Murphy chuckled mirthlessly and reached through the driver's side window before moving over to the hood of the car. He leveled a Thompson submachine gun at the four hapless pedestrians. "I think I can handle this on my own. "If you don't mind, CH, stop where you're at and raise your hands and keep them where I can see them. You've gone far enough."
Though the response was directed at CH, everyone stopped suddenly and did as commanded. That is, with the exception of Emily, who doubled over briefly and, with a deftness and violence that surprised her, vomited. The act was due less to the shock of what was unfolding in front of them than from the gin heavy martinis she'd been guzzling since the previous afternoon and the sudden change in equilibrium from exiting the moving vehicle. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. "Excuse me," she belched quietly before staring back at the weapon pointed at her and raising her arms belatedly.
"I agree, Murph," Tannehill continued, ignoring Emily's act of social transgression, "don't want to go too far."
Vera looked down at the splattered expectorant on the crushed gravel and then back at the tall man pointing a machine gun at them, "if this is a performance art piece, I don't get it."
"You don't look too surprised at this turn of events that we're facing on this fine morning, CH."
Tannehill shrugged, "I suppose it's not out of the question that someone on the force decides to participate in extracurricular activities. In my experience, it's better to follow orders and keep your head down in hopes of getting out alive. But, no, I didn't expect you'd be pointing a machine gun at me."
Due to the distance between the two men, they had to shout in order to make themselves heard, but there was no danger of anyone hearing their conversation. The area was equally as deserted at the start of the workday as it had been on the previous visits. Only the rats were aware of the ignominious acts now occurring.
Murphy clucked his tongue and yelled back, "that's good advice to follow, CH."
"Yup," Tannehill drawled.
"Then I suggest we don't waste time and get started. You'll have to excuse me. While I'm aware of what we're looking for, I'm not quite sure where it is, so you'll have to lead the way."
"We're headed to the storage rooms behind the building."
"Fine by me," Murphy motioned with the weapon for everyone to walk in front of him. "Though I don't believe that it bears a reminder, I'll say it anyway - no sudden moves, or I fear that the last meal Miss Brunner ejected will have been her - and your - last."
Vera briefly considered pointing out that the group of them hadn't previously dined on Emily's vomit collectively, but thought better of it, given the serious expression on everyone's faces.
"Who is this man and how does he know Miss Brunner's name?" Otto whispered over the crunching gravel beneath their feet.
"He's your silent partner." Tannehill made no effort to lower his volume in response.
Murphy chuckled when he overheard Tannehill's quip, aware of what the German had likely asked and why he was also confused by the situation. He decided to play along.
"You see, Otto... It's Otto, right?"
Otto stopped and turned, answering slowly in a steady state of confusion, "Yes."
Murphy motioned with the Thompson to keep moving. Otto complied. "You see Otto, when you move the amount of, umm, merchandise," Murphy grinned widely though none of them could see it with their backs facing him, "that you have through our fair city here without notifying the proper authorities of its value, we tend to get a little agitated."
Murphy's sarcasm was lost on Otto. "Why would I notify the police about stolen goods from Germany?"
Murphy continued without breaking character. "The police department in Capital City functions a little differently than what you'd expect." He stopped and stood thoughtfully before resuming. "Then again, where you're from, it shouldn't be all that unexpected," and guffawed at his own joke.
When they reached the storage lockers, Tannehill asked Vera which of the lockers was the one they were seeking. She paused briefly, debating whether or not she should indicate the literal rats' nest as a decoy in hopes of finding a seam for bursting their current execrable situation open. Tannehill caught the deliberation behind her pause and shook his head slowly and subtly to dissuade her from any heroics. She stuck her arm out hesitantly and pointed toward the locked treasure trove she and Spinoza had uncovered days before. The group shuffled across the rain-soaked courtyard, climbed the stairs to the entrance, and stopped.
"I'm going to reach slowly into my pants pocket and pull out the key, Murph. I don't intend any funny business, but I can let you perform the honors if you'd prefer."
"It seems to me, CH, it'd be funnier business if I reached my own hand into your pants pocket rather than let you handle it." Feeling relaxed at reaching his goal, Murphy chortled again at his own unintended double entendre. "Just make sure everything moves nice and slow."
Tannehill did as instructed and pulled the key from his pocket. He inserted it and slowly turned the knob to open the door.
As the door began to swing open, Murphy continued, "See, the problem is CH, that you've been friendless for so long that, when given the opportunity to choose new friends, you chose poorly." He paused for effect. "With different choices, you could've been a very rich man."
Tannehill muttered lugubriously over the creaking door, "don't I know it."
[Author's Note: Today's post brings us across the finish line for the original goal. So, I'll pause for a few musings. I never actually thought that I'd get very far, given my previous history of maintaining a blog for any consistent amount of time. Although, to be honest with blogs, it's always a matter of wavering between a consistent topic and simply writing about what I fancy. The former has a higher probability of making me money, whereas the latter is my desired state, so I tend to waffle and then neglect my writing. But not in this case! Currently, in standard font, this novel would come in at about 200 pages - short by novel standards, but certainly the longest-running piece - personal, academic, professional - that I've ever written. And, I'm still not finished! Not only am I amazed that I've hit my goal, I'm amazed that I did it in nearly the time allotted (1 year). Technically, it's about 50% over estimate at 1 year and 5 months, but that's no different (and far better) than any major software project estimate. I had no expectations to go back and edit the work in its entirety, but as I come closer to wrapping up, it seems like turning this into a polished work begins to make more sense, now that I've seen the characters take on their arcs. But, first I've got to finish the rest of it. Today's edition is 1274 words. The running total is...50,707 words!]
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